The fresh caved night splashed across her skin as she was met with a small crowd gathered along the lantern-lit street. Curious gazes hid behind disguises, whispering to one another as they angled this way and that for a better view, wondering what delight or fright might be inside the Fork’s Tongue tavern, especially one that was causing the sign outside to swing so enthusiastically. They got their answer when a body was thrown through a window into the street.
Letting out a laugh, Niya hurried down a nearby alley, making her final escape. She breathed in the cool air of the Thief Kingdom, glancing through her eye mask to the glowworm-covered ceiling far above. The illuminated creatures twinkled in an array of greens and blues while giant connecting stalactites and stalagmites towered across the city, more pepperings of lights from dwellings carved into their sides. The city’s dark beauty never ceased to astonish Niya, and she let out a contented sigh, keeping to the shadows before turning onto Luck Lane. It was easily accomplished, given that the Betting District held extra-thick lengths of darkness. It concealed the games that didn’t fit inside the gambling halls, the kind that were too messy to clean. The cockfights, iron-knuckle brawls, deplorable dares—all for a slip of silver.
Small fires flickered down alleys, illuminating hunched forms gathered close as the smell of iron and sweat filled the air. As she walked on, she caught sight of a crowd watching two creatures shoveling plates of rocks into their mouths. Drool and snot dripped from their half-obscured masks as the competitors forced more in. The spectators hooted in excitement as a game master quickly made slashes on a board behind them, counting stones. Niya squeezed by the group, passing Macabris, one of the more expensive and exclusive clubs. The pristine black marble facade stood out among the surrounding humble establishments. A bright crystal chandelier hung high in the doorway, shining on four mammoth disguised bodyguards stationed by the door.
“You are full of lies,” laughed a lady in a cat mask to her companions, who stood waiting in line outside the club. “No one has seen the Crying Queen in months.”
Niya stilled beside them, ears prickling at hearing mention of the notorious pirate ship.
“I swear on the lost gods,” answered a form wrapped entirely in velvet. “I am friends with the port master in Jabari, and she told me a few of the crew docked there just last week.”
“So the Crying Queen is in the Jabari harbor?”
“I never said that. Merely some of the crew.”
“Without the ship, how do they know these pirates belong to it?”
The question was met with silence, but Niya remained where she was, heart beating quick as she bent down as though to tie her boot’s laces.
“Exactly,” continued the woman. “You don’t. These sort all look alike. Salt dried and suntanned darker than a belt’s hide.”
“Plus,” added another, “Alōs Ezra might have iron balls, but he’s not a fool who would send his crew out in the open after all this time in hiding. If you had learned this, the Thief King surely would have days prior. And the only news we’d be hearing tonight would be regarding his public disembowelment at court.”
“Well,” harrumphed the velvet companion, “whatever the truth, one thing’s for certain—Lord Ezra can’t hide forever.”
“No,” agreed a fourth. “And let’s hope he does not. That face is meant to be seen.”
“Seen under my skirts,” added the woman.
The group’s snickers were drowned out as they were ushered into the club, the warm light and crowded bodies within disappearing with the closing of the doors.
Niya remained crouched at the edge of the busy sidewalk, hardly feeling the knees and swinging arms knocking into her shoulders. It was as if her entire body had been doused in cold water. The mention of the pirate captain, even after all this time, still had her reacting.
Like a struck match, annoyed flames erupted in Niya’s veins, and she stood.
No, she thought, moving through the thick sea of citizens once more. She was only reacting because he and his crew had been on the run for the past several months. Hiding like cowards from the death sentence on their heads. If they couldn’t take their possible punishment, they never should have stolen phorria from the Thief Kingdom. The potent magical drug was too dangerous uncontrolled, which was why it was only allowed here, in the hidden city that held in chaos. The Thief King kept a very watchful eye over its use and trade within the dens of his kingdom.
Which of course made Alōs getting away with leaking it for so long that much more impressive. From the moment Alōs had won his seat at court, Niya had watched his quick rise to a high-ranking member. He was a viciously ambitious man, more slippery than an eel, but even so, Niya often wondered why he had broken such a treasonous law. Like the group had mentioned, Alōs Ezra was no fool. He would not have risked all that he had worked hard to gain without a good reason. Niya hated that she cared to know what his reason was.
She hated that she thought of him at all.
She hated . . . well, him.
Which is why I must put him out of my mind, she thought decidedly.
After all, the pirates of the Crying Queen could not be in Jabari.
“It would be impossible,” she muttered, skirting a corner. The Thief King had eyes in every port in Aadilor, especially Jabari—the city outside this kingdom where Niya and her own sisters lived.
“It’s only a rumor,” continued Niya as she stepped through an open archway and into a quiet courtyard. Tall brick buildings surrounded her, black shutters closing up every window. “And the lost gods know we’ve gotten plenty of rumors over the months.”
“Rumors of what?” asked Larkyra as she dropped down from a neighboring roof and landed in a crouch.
“Rumors of you losing your edge,” said Niya, not wanting to mention anything about Alōs to her sisters, especially unfounded rumors. Whenever the pirate was brought up in their circle, it only had Niya replaying that summer four years prior, which ultimately had led to a very stupid, dreadful, and horrible night. A night that even Larkyra and Arabessa did not know of. And if Niya had her way, never would. She had hid all notice of her heartache and guilt from her family, turning it over and over until it remolded into a desire for revenge.
“I fear it is your edges that have become soft,” corrected Larkyra while dusting off her skirts. “What with you leaving the tavern without making even one patron bleed.”
“The night’s still young; how about I remedy that with you?”
Larkyra shot her a sharp grin, her pearl eye mask twinkling in the lantern light. “I fear that would only prove my point further when you fail to do so.”
Niya’s annoyance sparked, her hand going to the blade at her hip, until—
“Ladies, please,” interrupted Arabessa as she dangled from the ledge of a second-floor balcony. “We wouldn’t want to ruin such a wonderful night with me carrying both your lifeless bodies home, now would we?” She landed delicately on the first floor’s thin railing before hopping to the ground, a graceful cat.
“Yes, wonderful night indeed,” declared Larkyra. “Leave it to you, dear sisters, to show me a grand night out before I leave for my honeymoon.”
“Of course,” said Niya. “Such special treatment is not merely handed out to anyone.”
“Especially not by you,” mused Larkyra ruefully.
“I do wish you would have listened to more of my suggestions for tonight’s events, though,” said Arabessa to Niya.
“Yes, but the last time I did that,” explained Niya, “I distinctly remember two carriages exploding.”
“But were we under attack then too?”
Larkyra nodded. “We were.”
“Oh, well, I must have forgotten that part.”
“The sickness of your old age,” said Niya.
“And the fatigue of mine.” Larkyra stifled a yawn.
“You’re younger than both of us.”
“Which doesn’t change that I’ll be a monster if I don’t get some sleep before Darius and I leave tomorrow.”